


French As a Second Language

by Devilinthebox (princegrisejoie)



Series: TLAT Verse [3]
Category: Death Note
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, French Characters, It's not fluff but it's as fluff as possible for lawlight if you see what I mean, M/M, Praise Kink, Yotsuba Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4074796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrisejoie/pseuds/Devilinthebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how French can ease the sorrow of those who feel persecuted by fate. In other words, Light's silent tears cause L to speak French. [Yotsuba Arc]</p>
            </blockquote>





	French As a Second Language

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambiguouslygayduo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguouslygayduo/gifts).



> A short but heartfelt gift for my dear Dana. I hope you had a wonderful birthday. <33  
> She wanted L speaking French and a crying Light.  
> This is TLAT compliant, as L speaks French in the verse (and is of French descent) but you can absolutely read it as a solo piece. The French parts are translated at the end, but I believe that, if you don't understand French, it's better to play along and only read the translation when you're finished :D

Worse than the act of crying, is the act of crying without knowing why. Light stood before the window that separated him from the busy, noisy, outside world. He was avidly trying to distract himself from the tears standing in his eyes.

His mind, ever attached to the idea of order and reason, rationalised. Exhaustion, weariness, lassitude. The suspects were put on trial for watering his eyes and weighting his heart with shameful sorrow. Light reeled off his motives for crying and judged his own case feeble. It wouldn’t convince anyone. Not even himself, for once. His own devoted mother couldn’t pretend to believe him, wouldn’t give that polite little smile he learnt to imitate. When did the act ceased to be easy to play?

He let his hand skim the translucent glass, eager for the day he’d look into the eyes of his reflection, untroubled and assured he never killed anyone.

_It’s a matter of time before we solve the case._

He blinked. A mistake that came with its fated result. Tears rolling down his cheeks, and the dreaded sentiment of failure. Why was it happening to him? He always played by the rules, however displeasing. He borrowed the values they taught him, nodded, worked, obeyed. He did his duty.

It all had a meaning, before he forgot it. He felt the injustice of the situation at his core. Someone…something messed up the puzzle he had devoted his childhood to. Now, L was using the missing pieces against him. It’s either he remembers, or he catches Kira.

_I’ll prove my worth. I’ll prove him wrong._

Light swallowed against his throat, silencing a sob. He had to stay in this position, standing tall, his back to L. Maintaining an air of dignity around him became a moral imperative.

The tears were so distracting, he forgot words could betray even those with a silver tongue.

“There is something wrong with me,” he whispered, an octave too high.

Perhaps he wanted L to hear the words, after all. _He_ was the one to blame for all this.

“Absolutely,” his voice rang, clear and slow, behind Light. “You cry with a perfect face. It does seem fishy. Other than that…”

Light pivoted on his heels. “ _You_ , of all people, are going to tell me I’m normal?”

“It depends on what you call normal,” L said, shifting his position on the armchair he was sat in. Talking to the detective was different behind closed doors, or up on the rooftop. In some ways, the evenings spent away from the task force felt clandestine. Light could admit it to himself at times: he loved the secrecy of it all, even the handcuffs and the red marks circling his wrists. Kira aside, it seemed like he had been chosen by L. If he forgot, for a flicker of an instant, that he was a mass murderer in the eyes of the brightest man in the world….then, he could be living that exceptional existence he had been longing for. _The life he deserved._

In the calmness of their room, Light usually prided himself in the changes he observed in L’s behaviour. That night, though, he was not in the mood. He only stared at L as the detective went on: “You’re not a computer that is wired wrong. Even if you’re Kira.”

Light let out a sigh. “I just wish there was a way to change your mind about that.”

“There isn’t. You were Kira. I can’t be held responsible for the pain it causes you.”

“Then you should be nicer,” Light blurted out. His body stiffened at his own words. Now that was a brand new way of deceiving himself.

By chance, L didn’t turn the statement over and over in mind, and responded quickly. “You believe that would be the right thing to do?”

Light swallowed. “Yes.”

“Because I made you cry?” L asked. Perched on the armchair like that, he looked like some kind of strange bird.

_An annoying bird then, always out of my reach._

“Yes, although I wasn’t exactly crying.” Light tensed again.

“Alright. I’ll give you what you want,” L said, and leaped onto his feet. “Sit down,” he ordered with a supple motion of the hand.

 “What is it I want?”

“At the moment? You wish to forget your tears, caused by my relentless pursuit of you. I can’t diminish the certitude I have that you are Kira. I won’t do that.” L’s bony fingers grasped Light's shoulders. He froze under the touch. “However, I can give back some of the power I exerted on you,” L drawled, and gently pushed Light into the armchair. “You can be the prince for one night. Tell me, how do you distinguish between the powerless and the powerful?”

“We praise the powerful, hoping for their good graces,” Light answered at once.

“And we bow to them,” L completed, bending the knee.

Light’s eyes, misty and bright, widened.

After a discreet cough, he found his voice. “Royals are often lied to.”

“I would never to that,” L promised. “I am clever enough to tell you truths that won’t hurt.”

 _He is playing with me. This has to be a game._ “Of course. And you could also praise me in French. Come on, L.”

“Praise you in French,“ L echoed, contemplating the idea. In a heartbeat, he had his lips brushing Light’s hand. He kissed the skin, his apparent devotion that of a knight for his liege lord. “Dans la langue de l’amour, vraiment, cher Light?”

L obviously relished the effect of his words, swapping his deadpan expression for a playful, youthful smile. He looked at Light with as much eagerness as he him. Light found comfort in that.

“Why…” He breathed to center himself.  

‘Ne t’en veux pas, tu ne pouvais pas deviner,“ L purred, playing with Light’s warm fingers. “Maintenant, que préfères-tu ? Comprendre les compliments ou m’entendre parler Français ?’

Light’s hands seemed to move on their own to either sides of L’s neck.  “You should translate.”

“You should. _Tu devrais_. Either way, it’s not something a prince would say.”

“Translate. I want to understand,” Light intimated, bending over so he was breathing against L’s skin.

“C’est mieux, tu vois? Je te préfère lorsque tu es honnête. Enfin, honnête…c’est peut-être injuste de te demander ça,” L whispered, his nose now brushing Light’s hair. “I just said sincerity brightened your features.”

Light had no choice but to believe him. He shook his head slowly and asked for more.

_Talentueux, brillant, doux, élégant, rêveur…_

L was not only lavishing praises on Light, he had his eyes roam all over him. That was a compliment in itself.

_Adaptable, dévoué, zélé, gracieux, astucieux…_

And L offered him their Japanese equivalent one by one, mixed up the order of the list; he admitted it, grey eyes radiant, absurdly beautiful in all their childish mischief. Light had to rein in a smile.

It was a bizarre situation, the ever dignified honour student, relishing the praise offered in consolation by a man whose real name he didn’t know.

But the compliments, all these sweet words, they seemed to dissolve like sugar in L’s mouth. He enjoyed pronouncing them, as much as Light cherished them. The French words lingered in Light’s mind long after the sounds had vanished in thin air.  

After some time and a throbbing silence, L clasped Light’s hands again.

“Je vais être sérieux, maintenant. Ecoute bien. Oui, je crois que tu es Kira, et en tant qu’homme je le déplore. C’est seulement en tant qu’enquêteur que je peux me réjouir. Ne laisse pas ton péché te priver de tes belles qualités. Tu es mon égal. C’est un sentiment que j’ai depuis longtemps ; il est récemment devenu une certitude.”

Words are made of sentiments, sounds and meaning. It’s logical that, in the absence of meaning, the mind focuses on the sounds to decipher the sentiment.

It was all too clear: L was sharing something important. These last words altered his lilt of voice, filling it with heartfelt sincerity, instead of sharp, blunt honesty.

“Translate what you just said,” Light demanded, tilting L’s chin up so their eyes would meet.

“As long as I am here, you won’t be alone,” L said, unflinching. “That’s the gist of it, really.”

Light smiled a sincere smile, heated with gratitude. “That was…certainly better than I expected.”

“I tend to outlive expectations,” L retorted with something of a smirk. Gratitude receded in Light’s smile, in favour of polite amusement. L was still the same infuriating genius. He possessed a unique sort of deadpan arrogance that distinguished him from Light.

He was inaccessible, willingly mysterious, ever beyond his reach.

And, in a way, was there anything more rewarding than being respected by such a man?

*

The French lesson didn’t quite end there. Neither of them could rest, so they threaded to the rooftop. Their walk was never silent, for there was always that jingling of metal, haunting like the sound of bells. They tended to align the cadence of their walk, so the melody was always the same. Another unspoken agreement.

They discussed trivialities, feeling the shiver of a changing world on their backs. The importance of their investigation weighted on Light, all of a sudden. It gripped at his throat, a sensation similar to that caused by remorse.

The feeling grew unbearable, so he asked the question that had been stinging his lips for days.

“Do you ever _hope_ that I’m not Kira?” It came out softer than he meant to. Light fixed his gaze on L’s, lest the detective took nervousness for an admission of guilt.

L bowed his head, studied his suspect quietly. Then, in a voice still calm: “Je l’aimerais.”

_I wish I still had hope for you._

A tense silence menaced to set in, but Light lifted a shoulder and with a smirk:

“So the greatest detective does have a heart. In spite of being half-French.”

L blinked at him, and Light had never known him so sincerely surprised. It wasn’t the response he imagined. Pride surged through Light’s veins.

“Wishful thinking on your part,” L replied, casting Light one of his trademark intense glances. “It doesn’t extend to everyone, if it’s the case.”

“Rather possessive, are we?”

Light brushed the skin of L’s wrist. They had closed the space between them without realising it.

“I prefer _exclusif_ , as we say in French.”

A silence, less tense than charged with their familiar, electrifying tension.

“I hope you loved the lesson,” L added, his voice dropping in slower registers.

Light had to avert the detective’s eyes once again. He allowed himself a tear that had nothing to do with sadness. “I did. I truly did.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dans la langue de l’amour, vraiment, cher Light?: In the language of love, really, dear Light?  
> ‘Ne t’en veux pas, tu ne pouvais pas deviner...Maintenant, que préfères-tu ? Comprendre les compliments ou m’entendre parler Français ?’ Don't be harsh with yourself, you couldn't know. Now, what do you prefer? Understand the compliments or hear me speak French?
> 
> C’est mieux, tu vois? Je te préfère lorsque tu es honnête. Enfin, honnête…c’est peut-être injuste de te demander ça: Now that's better. I like you better when you're honest. Well...honest, maybe that's unfair to ask this from you. (Yes, L is a douche)
> 
> Talentueux, brillant, doux, élégant, rêveur… Talented, brilliant, sweet, elegant, dreamy  
> Adaptable, dévoué, zélé, gracieux, astucieux…Adaptable, devoted, zealous, gracious, clever
> 
> Je vais être sérieux, maintenant. Ecoute bien. Oui, je crois que tu es Kira, et en tant qu’homme je le déplore. C’est seulement en tant qu’enquêteur que je peux me réjouir. Ne laisse pas ton péché te priver de tes belles qualités. Tu es mon égal. C’est un sentiment que j’ai depuis longtemps ; il est récemment devenu une certitude.  
> I'll be serious now. Listen carefully. Yes, I believe you to be Kira and as a human being, I deplore that. It's only as an investigator that I can delight in that fact. Don't let your sin spoil your beautiful qualities. You are my equal. It's a sentiment I have had for a while now. It has become a certitude.


End file.
